My chest puffs with pride. “Hell yeah, his is. He’s the perfect bottom.” And top, I silently add, because that’s something Michael and I choose not to share outside our bedroom—a secret among lovers. Not because I’m ashamed of bottoming from time to time. It’s simply something we wish to keep for ourselves.
As if on cue, our tent zipper rips down revealing my timid submissive and his iron length concealed behind a scrap of blue fabric. The yard goes silent, all eyes on Michael. I tap my toe on the striped blanket underfoot. Without hesitation, Michael pads over and kneels, palms flat on his thighs, chin on chest. In reward for his bravery, I pet his hair. A shiver passes through him as he sways in my direction.
I’m so fucking proud I could almost burst.
Leaning down so my mouth’s a hairsbreadth from his earlobe, I whisper, “You’ve pleased your master, baby. Are you ready for this? Do you wanna talk first, or get on with what I have planned?”
Giving him options allows Michael a modicum of power. It might not be much, but it’s usually enough to appease him and myself. I hate controlling him completely. Slavery isn’t for me. Domination, on the other hand, is what gets us both off.
The hands on Michael’s sparsely haired thighs tremble as he audibly gulps. I card my fingers through his hair to calm his fraying nerves. “Well?” I prompt, returning to my upright position, back straight, knees parted, gettin’ a chub just looking at my handsome man. The rest of the world fades out as I focus all my attention on the only person I’ve ever loved with my entire heart.
“I … I.” He clears his throat. “I’d like to get this over with if that’s okay with you,” Michael speaks lowly, staring at his lap. There’s a pre-cum stain forming on the front of his jock.
I expected him to go full throttle. He’s all or nothing when faced with most tasks. At least the ones that I usually place before him. He did that when he started wearing a cage. It went from an experiment to his favorite accessory. When we’d moved in to the house he decided, with my help, of course, what we needed to make it a home. The abstract artwork above our couch depicting two nude men wrapped in each other was the last piece he’d chosen—as if, by doing so, he cemented our safe place, as well as our relationship. Not that I’d ever let him go. Even if he didn’t get past this aversion. This isn’t for me. It’s for his mental health. Something I care deeply about.
Patting my man on the shoulder, I kiss the side of his head, then stand. With the crook of my finger, I gesture for Bonez to step forth. We’ve plotted this out, so Bonez knows his role in today’s exercises. We mutually agreed that he wouldn’t drink a sip of alcohol in the presence of Michael, because Bonez, as well as the entire town of Carolina Rose, is aware he’s an overeager slut when intoxicated. One beer or ten doesn’t matter. He’s insatiable. That being said, I know from speaking with Jake that Bonez is very respectful and professional when necessary. That’s why he’s first up to bat.
Inhaling deeply, I disregard the screaming banshee wreaking havoc inside my brain, telling me to stop this now. Not to allow anyone to touch what’s mine. To protect Michael at all costs.
Shaking my head, casting the heart clenching thoughts aside, I forge ahead. I am doing this for him. I am protecting him. Everything I do, I do for him or my children. My life is no longer mine. I live for them and them alone.
For Michael’s benefit, since he cannot see Bonez in this position, I pinch his chin and tilt his head back to observe. Michael’s eyes widen, drinking in Bonez’s shirtless form. His Adam’s apple bobs nervously.
“Pants off,” I instruct Bonez, who nods once but doesn’t speak when he follows suit. Off goes the leather belt in slow motion before his button and zipper are undone.
While Michael watches the striptease, I dig through the duffel behind my stool. It’s a mess; full of toys, lubes, clothes … you name it. At the bottom in the corner is what I’m seeking—a pair of black leather, fur lined cuffs, that I had engraved with Master’s Heart on them. They resemble the same cuffs I purchased Michael at the commune, except better. They have metal clips on the inside, perfect for what I have in store.
Now down to his boxer briefs, Bonez’s massive hard-on is outlined by the thin cotton. Part of me wants to punch him in the face for agreeing to this, while the other wants to hug him for being a good sport. He didn’t have to help. He’s not getting anything out of it. Aside from showing off his dick that we all know is way bigger than anyone else’s here. We’re talking significantly larger—inches plus girth, and I’ve yet to see it bare.
Standing beside Michael, cuffs in hand, I nod to Bonez—giving him the go-ahead to move to phase two. Without pause, he hooks his thumbs into the waistband and in one fell swoop drops his boxers to his ankles. Michael gasps loudly, Justin chuckles, Asher hides his eyes in Justin’s shoulder, Jake grins, and my mouth falls open in awe. Yep. I knew he’d be hung. Like H-U-N-G. But, holy motherfucker! We’re talking anal destroyer there! Fuck! Thick as a Coke can, at least ten inches long with baby snake sized veins, a neatly trimmed gray-black bush, and low hanging baseballs for testicles. Not believing my eyes, I scrub them with my fist before looking again to make sure I’m not imagining this. Damn. It’s still there. Every straight man’s envy and gay bottom’s horror. The head, a perfect purplish mushroom, has a clear pearl of pre-cum on the tip. It’s pointing straight at us, no curve or tilt. Objectively, it’s stunning.
Wordlessly, Bonez stands before us naked and proud as we take in his glorious piece of meat and muscled body—a Daddy Bear by gay standards. Minus the overabundance of hair. His beefy pecs are furry, and there’s a decent path that leads to his package, but the rest of him is averagely hairy. His thighs are thick and tattooed. Biceps that put us all to shame. I know from talking to Jake that Bonez works out at Thor’s gym six days a week. It shows. I’m no slouch. Though, I’m nowhere as large as him. My muscles are cut and defined—body larger than Michael’s. Still, he’s not small by any stretch of the imagination either. All of us here are average to above average sized men. All manly by definition. Although, I gotta say Bonez takes the cake … no … the whole fucking bakery when it comes to oozing masculinity and sex. I knew he’d put me to shame in the dick department—I don’t get penis envy. I just didn’t realize I’d signed up to have the king of cocks assisting me in breaking down Michael’s barriers today. It’s one thing to pull my man out of his comfort zone. It’s a whole other to terrify him with the world’s largest dong.
Briefly closing my eyes, I will myself to stop slack jaw staring. I’m not turned on by Bonez. But I have to admit his raw specimen is fascinating.
Kneeling on the blanket behind Michael, he visibly shivers as I peel one of his hands off his thigh and bring it around his back before I do it to the other. Then I slip on the soft cuffs and latch them in the middle, so his arms are secured behind him, resting comfortably at his tailbone. As reward for his submission, I pepper kisses along my man’s shoulder. Trailing them up the base of his neck, goosebumps sprouting under my lips, I suck the skin below his ear, marking his flawless flesh. He moans, so I suck harder, deepening the brand—so it’ll last a week and not a day or two. Another moan, a tortured one, falls from his lips this time—the sting from the suction driving him wild.
I grip Michael’s hip from behind and gesture for Bonez to come forward with the other. A worried noise squeaks in my lover’s throat as Bonez kneels in front of him, cock in hand.
“Exercise one,” I breathe hotly in Michael’s ear, pausing to nibble a bit. “Carry on a full conversation with Bonez while he rubs his dick … All. Over. You.” Michael stiffens, but I continue on as my heart ratchets up and abs clench, knowing this is going to be difficult for both of us for different reasons. “You need to trust that he’s not going to harm you, baby. He’s not. A dick’s a piece of flesh to derive pleasure and to piss. Not meant to hurt you. Mine doesn’t. Neither will Bonez’s. This never used to be an issue for you. Men talking or touching you while naked. You were never sc
ared before. We need to prove you don’t have anything to be scared of now. Do you have any questions?”
Michael shudders, and I’m relieved that I can’t see his face or I’m sure I’d call this whole cockamamie idea off. “I … Master … Please. Can’t there be another way?”
“No.”
Sinking my teeth in to his shoulder, I punctuate my verdict. Crying in ecstasy laden pain, Michael’s head flings backward, chest thrusting to the heavens as my blunt nails dig into his hip. Because I can’t control myself, I slip a single finger between his cheeks and massage his slick pucker to soothe my broken lover. It opens, begging me to dip inside. I refuse, and he groans his disappointment.
Withdrawing my teeth from Michael’s bruised flesh, I meet Bonez’s attentive gaze over my man’s shoulder. I offer a faint nod, and he does exactly what we discussed by rubbing his pre-come soaked prick on top of Michael’s thigh. My stomach sinks. Every cell in my body coils tighter as red-hot agony like I’ve never felt before spears my soul. I hold my breath to ride the excruciating wave, eyes pinched shut, jaw clamped. Michael’s teeth grit, and I have to stuff my face into the crook of his neck to get a hold of myself before I haul off and smash my fist over and over into Bonez’s handsome face for something I asked him to do. Which he agreed to without hesitation. We’d met at The Diner one night per Jake’s request to discuss my detailed plans. All of which he was down with. I wanted this … I … Fuck!
If I can’t deal then how the hell am I supposed to expect Michael to?
Christ!
“What’s your favorite color, Mike?” Bonez asks, unaffected, somehow knowing that I can’t form another coherent word without losing my shit.
I’d warned him. I’d warned them all that this may happen. The only thing keeping me half-sane is knowing that Bonez is sober and prefers to take it up the chute. He may not be a submissive. But, he’s not truly interested in banging my man, even if he jokes about blow jobs whenever he’s lit. Him blowing Michael. Not the other way around.
“You can do it, baby,” I mutter to my lover’s overheated skin, trying to convince myself, too.
“I … I…” His breath falters. I can feel the thundering of his heart through the pulse point in his neck where my lips rest. “It’s blue. What’s yours?”
That’s it. His voice clears.
Relieved, my own pounding heart takes a siesta—soothing itself to a steady beat.
“Mine’s also blue. That’s why I’ve got this tattoo here.”
I don’t have to look to know Bonez is pointing to his bluebird tattoo. As with all his ink, it, too, is beautiful.
Minutes tick by at a leisurely pace. Questions are swapped between them, Michael tentatively answering one right after the other. Wrapping myself around my lover from behind, head resting on his shoulder, I listen to the subtle change in his breathing as Bonez drags his monstrous dick higher, per our agreement. When Bonez asks Michael what he likes on pizza, Michael’s response falters as he trembles violently, a delicate groan percolating in his throat. Mustering enough courage, I peek over my man’s shoulder to see where Bonez’s cock now rests—Michael’s perfect belly button, where his abs contract beneath the unwelcome touch. The pre-cum stain on his jock has soaked the fabric entirely. Michael may be uneasy, but he’s still very much excited. As if his member knows I’m staring, it flexes enticingly. And all I wanna do is fist my man’s shaft and give it a languid tug to show how proud I am.
“You’re doing great,” I praise, dropping a kiss to the side of his head. “It’s not so bad, is it?”
Michael shrugs. “It’s … um … different.”
“Are you still nervous?”
“Not really.”
“No?”
“No.”
It’s obvious he isn’t going to elaborate. Not that he ever does so willingly.
“Tell me what’s goin’ on inside that sexy brain of yours,” I press, and Bonez pauses where he’s at, letting his pre-cum pool in my lover’s navel. For a split second I wait for a tornado of possessive fury to trample my system. Only, it doesn’t come this time. If anything, I feel oddly serene—accepting. Hell. I’m not even jealous. Which is funny considering a guy is smearing man gravy all over my Michael.
Startled by my body’s lack of response, I scratch the back of my head, dumbfounded.
Huh.
Weird.
Michael’s frame leans my way, relaxing against my sturdy chest. “I trust you. I know you won’t let anyone hurt me, Master. But ... it is strange.”
“How so?”
“Well, I don’t appreciate another man’s dick touching me. Though, I’m not actually worried about what’ll happen.”
“And why’s that?” This is the response I prayed to get when I’d concocted this ridiculous plan in the first place. I had no idea if it’d work or not, but desperate times…
“You control how much he touches or doesn’t touch me.”
“That’s right. Does that bother you?”
“No, Master.”
“Come on, baby. You can do better than, No, Master.”
He chuckles.
Elated by the sound, I smile and kiss the side of his neck just below the ear.
“You always have to know what I’m feeling, don’t you?” Michael teases.
“Of course.” I squeeze his hip to reinforce my statement.
“Even when I’m as hard as a rock, with another man’s dick smearing cum all over my skin, you expect me to think clearly.” He chortles lightly.
“Yes. Even then.”
“You’re impossible,” he quips.
“But you love me anyway.”
Michael bobs his head. “Yes. I do. Very much.”
My heart blooms anew like a freshly budded rose, filling my chest with admiration and an appreciation for true love. It’s no secret that I never believed in soul mates or any of that emotional crap until Michael unexpectedly came in to my life. After that, it didn’t take long for me to realize there was something different about him, and now here we are. It’s crazy how life has a tendency to come full circle and open our eyes to fresh possibilities.
Pleased by our progress, I return the sweet sentiment, atta boy pat my lover’s bum, and peck his hair before pushing to my feet. Bonez tilts his head up to meet my eye. I nod once to convey that I’m stepping away to leave Michael in his capable hands. His slow blink in return confirms he’s on board and won’t let me down. At least that’s what I hope it fucking means.
Step one of today’s adventure was to comfort my man as Bonez disrupted his equilibrium. Next, is to show Michael that he doesn’t need me to save him. Because not all men are monsters wanting a piece. We’re definitely upping the ante. Let’s see if Michael’s newfound composure can handle this next phase, or is he putting on a brave face to get out of this sooner?
Quietly, I excuse myself from the blanket and stride over to where Asher and Justin are conversing on their respective logs. I take a seat next to Asher and watch Bonez out my peripheral as he continues. Michael seems at ease, his expression relaxed as they chat amongst themselves. A hint of a smile creeps in every now and again, dispelling any reservations I might’ve had about today’s craziness.
Beside me, Asher grips his daddy’s thigh and groans erotically. I guess Justin decided more ass play was in order. The hand behind Asher’s bottom is going to town. I must admit the squelching sound of finger fucking is quite hot. Not that I haven’t been stiff since I woke up this morning and commanded my man to get his stuff together so we could leave. I can’t deny that my anxiousness about today probably rubbed off on Michael. I’ve been questioning my motives about this for weeks. If it weren’t for Price convincing his VP to lend me this secluded spot, and Maddox helping set up the tents earlier this week, I probably would’ve found one reason or another to procrastinate.
“He looks like he’s handling Bonez pretty damn well.” Justin lifts his chin in their direction.
Knees apart, elbows r
esting on them, hunched over, I reply, “Seems so. To be honest, I thought he’d fight me on this. He’s got one helluva stubborn streak.”
“So does this one.”
As if on cue, Asher belts a lustful moan, eyes tipping back in to his skull, thighs shaking as Justin smirks, stealing his boy’s composure.
At The House of Red, the place where I met Michael, I never got a chance to experience anything as sinful as this. Sure, I’ve seen others fucking. And I’ve had a Dom cum on Michael while I plowed him. Which I hated down to my marrow. But this, where we’re paired off, and nobody’s a threat to the other, or out for the next best thing. It’s fucking heady. The air’s thick with testosterone. Each one of us aroused. We know the score and bask in its provocative ambiance. There’s no competition, so I don’t have to worry if another Dom is gonna try and fuck my man. It’s safe, sane, and consensual. It’s hotter than motherfucking Hades. And, to top it off, I think Michael’s on the brink of destroying his anti-man walls.
My cheeks burn as I observe the lewd buffet of bare skin and sex spread before me. Michael laughs and Bonez reciprocates as the dong to rival all dongs reaches his nipples. They share another round of comic relief as Asher drowns in pleasure, and Jake jerks off underneath Bonez’s t-shirt three yards away, his teeth sunk into his bottom lip.
Jesus. What I wouldn’t give to slip into Michael’s hole right now. To show him how fucking amazing he is. How brave.
“I’ve never done anything like this before,” I admit to anyone who’s listening.
“Us either.” Justin swipes a line of sweat from his brow with the back of his hand and discards it on his pant leg.
Asher concurs with a garbled, “Yes.” Then again, maybe that’s the lust talking.
I knead the back of my neck, wishing I could massage the thing throbbing in my pants instead.
“Did you think it’d be this insanely hot?” Tilting my head to the side, I arch a brow toward Justin, who’s given Asher a reprieve. Though, from the looks of that jock, he’s already came at least once.
“Not a fuckin’ bit. If it weren’t for Jake sayin’ somethin’ to Bonez first. Then Asher, who talked me in to this, I wouldn’t even be here. I don’t share.” He shrugs unapologetically. “I’m greedy as fuck like that.”
Master's Vlogger Page 4